


Colours

by orphan_account



Category: Halsey (Musician)
Genre: F/M, Swearing, alludes to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7950592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The girl looks back at each month of her 8-month relationship with the boy and reflects on how it changed her and how the change was what made him break her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Month 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a work of fiction and does not reflect any of the characters at all. This is pretty OOC since the characters don’t reflect the people, just the way I interpreted the characters might be from the song Colors by Halsey.  
> This is posted on my tumblr beat-of-the-music but I wanted to just have it here as well. The chapters are super short and I'm adding these by the hour. Enjoy!

**Month 1, Day 1**

> _You’re dripping like a saturated sunrise_
> 
> _You’re spilling like an overflowing sink_

It wasn’t as though the girl had never seen the boy before; rather, the opposite was quite true. He had recently seemed to appear wherever she was: a party Saturday night or the club on Friday, that birthday party of a friend’s and celebration of another’s university graduation, and they had both caught each other’s eyes often but neither quite approached the other.

That night of the party, however, the girl couldn’t keep her eyes off the boy with random red strands in his brown hair, leather jacket and a drink in his hands. The way he danced to the music was mesmerizing, his hair enticing in the seductive lights, his fucking Cheshire cat smile made her heart beat faster and his eyes, when locked with hers from across the room, was absolutely enthralling and he made her think up unconventional adjectives to describe him.

As it happens, the boy hadn’t quite been able to shake off the thought of the girl either.

Everything was a blur after that and they were in the middle of the dance floor, first jumping to the beat of the music, then kissing, hands tangled in hair, laughter and smirks when their lips weren’t otherwise occupied and that, really, is all that is needed to be said about that night.

* * *

It is the beginning that I consistently go back to now that I am at the end. Wondering, always wondering; would I have passed up the opportunities had I known where it would lead us, if I had known that I would have to watch all the colour that seemed to surround him that night seep away from him slowly over two-thirds of a year, leaving only a gray canvas but a masterpiece nonetheless.

Or would I have chosen it all anyway because, despite all the pain it has caused, I was on a roller coaster for months and I never did learn how to pass up a roller coaster ride, even if I was certain I was going to throw up and even though I am terrified of heights. I probably would have decided to climb onto the ride with Matty, knowing that when it truly dropped, it never did come up again.

Perhaps, in a year, I would change my mind but tonight, as my feet dangle from the roof ledge, my shattered heart only a few hours behind me, I would choose to do it over again; the colours and heartache and all.


	2. Month 2

**Month 2**

> _Your little brother never tells you but he loves you so_
> 
> _You said your mother only smiled on her TV show_

The girl had known the boy for over a month, nearly two, and one of the most personal and intimate things she knew about him was how hard it was to get him to open up about personal things. She would most certainly understand him better if he would just let her in and talk. Then, he finally did.

It was out of the blue one morning, a week or so after the last time she tried to coax him to open up about what was bothering him or going on in his life besides the things she witnesses first-hand, as she was making waffles, that she got a call from and all he said was, “My brother must hate me.”

From there, the conversation spilled on to his guilt about not spending enough time with his brother, of being a terrible role model and whether he should be around his brother at all; his no-show father and what kind of a man that made him; how his “mother only smiles at her TV show” and how that affects their family; his disinterest in college and the terrible grades he’s receiving, how clueless he is about his future. The girl just listened silently and occasionally whispered reassurances. The boy, man really, needed someone to listen, not offer solutions.

That was the last day in the 8 months that most of those topics were mentioned except for the occasional “I missed my mother’s call. No, I’m not calling back.”

His plans for the future and his college classes, the only topic of that day that they spoke about, managed to cause a lot of damage to their relationship from then on. 

* * *

While Matty may not know it or speak of it, I did get to know his younger brother, I met him once. He told me he hated me because I am one of the things that took his brother away from him, just a bit more than how far out of reach he already was.

I never did tell him, and neither did his little brother, but he loves Matty, no matter what Matty does or says or is. There are people who love him, unconditionally regardless of whatever tide comes next, and being loved is not a burden. I only hope that one day he finally realizes that. 


	3. Month 3

**Month 3**

> _Everything is blue_
> 
> _His pills, his hands, his jeans_

The girl laughed as the boy failed to, for the fifth time, knock down the cup. He knew that this game, like many others, was rigged but refused to back down now. He paid for the sixth try.

As the boy placed the stuffed panda he won after his eleventh try in the girl’s arms, already overflowing with prizes that they had won, she regretted ever doubting that he wouldn’t succeed. He could be adamant like no other when he wanted to be. He just mostly didn’t want to be.

They had cotton candy, her blue and him red, later in the night. Their cotton candy matched their outfits quite a bit. Her hair, top and shoes all blue and his hair, plaid shirt and shoes red. She filed away the moment when they decided to bite the other’s cotton candy in her mind. It felt important, somehow.

* * *

The first thing I will do after I get home is to get rid of all those damn stuffed animals. All but one. Even after it all, I want to remember the night I fell for him. Hard. I want to remember the night when I realised how we were affecting each other. How parts of me were rubbing off on him and parts of him on me. Admittedly, that is why I’ve now lost him.

That night was a dip in the roller coaster but the good kind. The exhilarating kind that makes your heart fly to your throat, makes you lightheaded and eager for more.

The panda will have to remind me of what was, what is and what could have been.


	4. Month 4

**Month 4**

> _And now I’m covered in the colors_
> 
> _Pulled apart at the seams_

It was about something stupid like having a couple drinks too many when he should have been working on the assignment that’s 25% of his grade. He would fail otherwise. He just needed a 60% to ensure that he would pass the course. He could do it.

Apparently he couldn’t. It wasn’t worth it, he said. He had wanted to drop the class anyway. Why not drink a couple more drinks till he passed out? Why did he have to even hand it in? t wasn’t like it would help him in life, it was worthless.

The thoughts going through her brain as he spewed bullshit surprised even her. It started out harmless… Yes, he could. It was worth it. Then the class should’ve been dropped months ago. Because she was going to have to take care of the mess if he passed out and she refused to. Worthless? Much like you right now?

The last thought was something that wouldn’t have even crossed her mind a month ago and yet. What a bitchy thing to think. What a Matty thing to think. Huh.

* * *

It was such a trivial thing and not even our first fight but that is what sticks out in my brain nonetheless. The first time I realized how hopeless he truly might be. The first time I realized how he was changing me, perhaps to be the same.

What attracted me to him was how lively he was, how free-flowing his soul. It seems that there is a limit to that. As he pours out his soul into the world, there is nothing left to refill it and leaves an empty space. I tried to mend it with parts of my own soul but it wasn’t enough in the end.

It was a downpoint but it wasn’t the end. No, it was just another small dip in the roller coaster, a bad one this time but it gets back high again. Quite high. The end, the big dip, comes much later. I should have savoured the high more while it lasted.


	5. Month 5

**Month 5  
**

> _I know I’ve only felt religion when I’ve lied with you_

They were a mess of limbs and beautiful noises. Their feelings poured from one to the other as they kissed; hands explored, grasped, sought; eyes travelled over bodies, closed in pleasure then flew open.

The noises turned higher, then lower, then rougher; the kiss became feral as if they intended to swallow the other’s every sound; the fingers dug into flesh and nails left marks; eyes were fierce and whispered challenges. Their actions became more and more demanding, their movements wild and searching for control.

One could possibly have heard the frenzy at which their hearts beat if they listened closely enough; the boy and girl definitely could. It had left their hearts racing and breaths panting and a dangerous calm over them.

The calm that was lost as eyes glinted twenty minutes later and it all started again.

That night summed up the feelings and dynamics of their relationship so well; calm yet volatile, waiting yet demanding.

Lovely yet absolutely wild.

* * *

The nights with him were the best. Without anybody else there, any responsibilities distracting us, we were free to do as we pleased; whether it be to talk until dawn or seek comfort and pleasure in each other’s bodies.

Tonight, and all the ones after, will be lonely without his presence beside me and the mornings will be agony.

I’ll survive. I’ll have to.


	6. Month 6

**Month 6**

You were a vision in the morning when the light came through

Each morning after every night spent together, the girl was always first to wake up. She would untangle herself from their intertwined limbs, take a shower and work quietly at her desk. That morning even as she tried to concentrate on her work, her eyes kept wandering back to the boy.

He truly was a vision in the morning as sunlight shone through the windows. His reddish-brown hair looked impossibly soft and messy as the light reflected off of it and his skin glistened. He looked like he was spilling all of himself, soul and all, onto the mattress and into the world, nothing able to contain it. He looked vulnerable, his vulnerability so rarely displayed.

Her heart fluttered at how soft he looked, how calm and beautiful. Everything and anything would be worth battling through if she would get to wake to that face every morning.

She couldn’t breathe, her lungs constricted and her heart pumped up but all in a good way. She was breathless.

She wanted to reach out and touch his cheek, let her fingers brush through the hair, but she knew that he would blink open his sleepy blue eyes and get on about his day like all the others and it would all be lost.

She wanted to preserve these moments for as long as she could. She wished they were boundless.

* * *

The mornings are something I will always miss I think. Even if I forget about the adventures I went on with him and the countless night are all but fragments in my minds, I will forever remember the mornings.

They don’t seem significant to anyone else and it wasn’t as though we were quite doing anything. Yet, those mornings are my have their own place in my heart and mind and they were my lifeline as things started to go to shit, even more so. There was something peaceful and almost perversely smug about seeing him look so innocent, even when I knew he is anything but.

I may still wake up every morning and I may go about my day before I met him but those rare moments will forever be branded in my mind.


	7. Month 7

**Month 7**

> _And now he’s so devoid of color_
> 
> _He don’t know what it means_

The girl waits for the boy to come over one Thursday. Things hadn’t been too great the last week or so and the tension between them was only rising but she was excited. She had decided to dye her hair and cut it, so her long electric blue hair was replaced by shoulder length lilac hair. She found it amusing that lilac was a mixture of blue and red, her old hair colour and the boy’s  few strands of hair. It was fitting, what with the way the boy was affecting her and her life, changing her, mostly for better.

She should have guessed that he wouldn’t have found it half as amusing.

“Oh, nice,” he had said after she told him about the reason for the change of hair as he avoided her eyes and pulled off her top. He had barely glanced at her hair after seeing the change. He only grew more and more hostile the coming weeks and led the feeling of inevitability that couldn’t be ignored.

* * *

That was about when we should have broken up. We no longer spent hours talking to each other, late into the night. Heck, we barely even truly spoke to each other. It was all sex, avoidance and petty arguments, neither truly listening to the other. That was when it should have ended before the avoidances and petty arguments turned to full blown fights that resolved nothing and the animosity had only just started building.

I regret nothing more than those last two months.


	8. The Last Month

**Month 8**

> _You were red and you liked me ‘cause I was blue_
> 
> _You touched me and suddenly I was a lilac sky_
> 
> _And you decided purple just wasn’t for you_

Every couple fought and they got over it, especially if they were silly things. Yet, after all the huge fights, most left unforgiven, the tension palpable, it was the silliest of fights that broke them apart.

While their huge fights about their families (the girl’s family hated the boy), friends (the boys friends detested the girl but the feeling was definitely mutual) and future (the boy didn’t heed the girl’s warning about college marks and degrees and having a plan, even if it doesn’t involve school) only succeeded in making them loathe each other a bit more every fight, it was a fight about food, of all things, that finally tipped the boat. Also, there was a pattern with words that start with the letter “F,” the girl will later cautiously note.

The question was simple, “what should we order for dinner?” and yet somehow it turned into an argument involving “We got falafels last time and pizza the night before that. How come I have to constantly yield to your wishes?” and “Oh and have I ever led you astray with the food? If you won’t listen to me about quitting the drugs or caring about your future, why not at least listen to me about good food?”

That turned to “It’s my life!” and “Well, you’re in my life so it affects me too.”

It only snowballed from there. “Your need to control every aspect of my life leaves me feeling trapped. I am not okay with this.” “I hardly want to control your life, I only want to give you advice. The way friends, companions, partners, people in a relationship, do. You don’t listen to them anyway, so it’d hardly qualify as controlling your life if nothing I say affects you.”

Then it ended with a “You are no longer the person I fell in love with,“ and a door slam, leaving the girl alone in her room.

As the boy angrily got on the elevator outside her flat, she laughed bitterly and spoke to the darkness of the night outside. "No, I’m not. Now I’m who you made me.”

* * *

I wonder if he doesn’t like me having parts of him because of his self-hatred. I should have known that I can’t change him. I should have known better. He will still do drugs, still party on Tuesdays rather than do the essays, still have friends who are terrible influences and the only thing I’ve managed to change is that we both now have scars on our hearts.

The novels seem so romantic and easy, y’know? The bad boy with a motorcycle and a cigarette from his lips falls for the easygoing, charming girl. They laugh, love and mould into two halves of a whole and it all ends with them riding off into the sunset.

That is not how it goes at all. His livelihood drains as he spills it into the world, leaving only grey and emptiness where there were colours and I’m no longer there to surround him in mine. Now all I can do is thumb at my lilac hair and live with the knowledge that he has changed me but now hates me for it.

I should have known. I did know to an extent. So I’m not sure why it feels as though my heart is being poked and prodded at by tiny needles and it bleeds, bleeds and bleeds away.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Hope so!


End file.
